RONZE 


GEORGIA  DOUGLAS  JOHNSON 


1IIKIIIY 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 


BRONZE 


BRONZE: 

A  BOOK   OF  VERSE 

BY 
GEORGIA    DOUGLAS     JOHNSON 

AUTHOR  OF:  "THE  HEART  OF  A  WOMAN" 
"AN  AUTUMN   LOVE   CYCLE,"  ETC. 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 

DR.W.  E.B.  DuBOIS 


BOSTON 

B  .  J.  BRIMMER  COMPANY 
1922 


LOAN  STACK 


Copyright,  1922,  by 

B.  J.  BRIMMER  COMPANY 

SET  UP  AND  PRINTED.  NOVEMBER,  1922. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


PRESS  OF 

GOODMAN  BROTHERS,   INC. 
BOSTON,  MASS. 


• 


Permission  to  reprint  certain  poems  in  this  book 
has  been  courteously  granted  by  the  editors  of 
"The  Crisis"  and  "The  Liberator"  The  author 
wishes  to  make  acknowledgment  of  the  thanks 
due  to  Professor  Alain  Leroy  Locke,  of  Howard 
University,  for  helpful  criticism. 


532 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE 

This  book  is  the  child  of  a  bitter  earth-wound.  I  sit  on 
the  earth  and  sing  —  sing  out,  and  of,  my  sorrow.  Yet, 
fully  conscious  of  the  potent  agencies  that  silently  work 
in  their  healing  ministries,  I  know  that  God's  sun  shall 
one  day  shine  upon  a  perfected  and  unhampered  people. 


TO  H.  L.  J. 


FOREWORD 

Those  who  know  what  it  means  to  be  a  colored  woman 
in  1922 — and  know  it  not  so  much  in  fact  as  in  feeling, 
apprehension,  unrest  and  delicate  yet  stern  thought  — 
must  read  Georgia  Douglas  Johnson's  BRONZE.  Much 
of  it  will  not  touch  this  reader  and  that,  and  some  of  it 
will  mystify  and  puzzle  them  as  a  sort  of  reiteration  and 
over-emphasis.  But  none  can  jail  to  be  caught  here 
and  there  by  a  word  —  a  phrase  —  a  period  that  tells  a 
life  history  or  even  paints  the  history  of  a  generation. 
Can  you  not  see  that  marching  of  the  mantled  with 

"VOICES    STRANGE   TO   ECSTASY?" 

Have  you  ever  looked  on  the  "twilight  faces"  of  their 
throngs,  or  seen  the  black  mother  with  her  son  when 

"HER  HEART  IS  SANDALING  HIS  FEET?" 

Or  can  you  not  conceive  that  infinite  sorrow  of  a  dark 
child  wandering  the  world: 

"SEEKING  THE  BREAST  OF  AN  UNKNOWN  FACE!" 

/  hope  Mrs.  Johnson  will  have  wide  reading.  Her 
word  is  simple,  sometimes  trite,  but  it  is  singularly  sin- 
cere and  true  ,  and  as  a  revelation  of  the  soul  struggle 
of  the  women  of  a  race  it  is  invaluable. 

W.  E.  B.  Du  BOIS. 

New  York,  August  4, 1922. 


CONTENTS 

FOREWORD — DR.  WILLIAM  E.  B.  DuBoia....^ .  9 

EXHORTATION 

SONNET  TO  THE  MANTLED _...- - IS 

SONNET  TO  THOSE  WHO  SEE  BUT  DARKLY 16 

BROTHERHOOD   _. 17 

SUPPLICATION 

LET  ME  NOT  LOSE  MY  DREAM — 21 

LET  ME  NOT  HATE 22 

CALLING  DREAMS 23 

DESIRE 24 

SHADOW 

SORROW  SINGERS  _..~ - _.._..„.„.»._......—.  27 

THE  CROSS ~ - — 28 

PREJUDICE  29 

LAOCOON    . — .. — __.„...._ . _ ..__ _ „.__...  30 

THE  HEGIRA 33 

THE  PASSING  OF  THE  EX-SLAVE 

ALIENS                                                               „..—..-.—«....  .«,«..«».«—*.—**«*..««  3/ 

CONCORD    - _ ~~j —  38 

MOTHERHOOD 

THE  MOTHER 41 

MATERNITY  _ 42 

BLACK  WOMAN  43 

"ONE  OF  THE  LEAST  OF  THESE,  MY  LITTLE  ONE" 44 

SHALL  I  SAY,  "MY  SON,  YOU'RE  BRANDED?".- _ 45 

MY  BOY __ „ 46 

GUARDIANSHIP    _ _ 47 

UTOPIA  - . - ~ 48 

LITTLE  SON  . - 49 

BENEDICTION   - 50 

PRESCIENCE 

CREDO  - 53 

PROMISE  _ - 54 

THE  SUPPLIANT  55 

HOPE  .  .          .  _. ~~  56 

9 


EXALTATION 

COSMOPOLITE  _ _ _ „  59 

FUSION  ..._ , - _  60 

PERSPECTIVE 61 

WHEN  I  RISE  UP 62 

FAITH  „ _ _ „  63 

MARTIAL 

WE  FACE  THE  FUTURE 67 

SOLDIER _ _ 68 

HOMING  BRAVES  - 69 

TAPS  - „ 70 

PEACE 71 

RANDOM 

QUESTION 75 

THE  INITIATE  _ _ 76 

BONDAGE   . 77 

RESOLUTION _ „ _  78 

ECLIPSE    _ _ 79 

WHY? _ _ 80 

HUSKS _ 81 

THE  WATCHER ...._ _ 82 

THE  VANISHING  ROAD _ _ _ _  83 

APPRECIATIONS 

SERVICE    „ 87 

To  THE  MARTYRED  .„ „ ,  88 

To  JOHN  BROWN  _ ; 89 

To  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN _.. _  90 

To  WILLIAM  STANLEY  BRAITHWAITE _ , _  91 

To  W.  E.  B.  DuBois _.._.„  92 

To    RlDGELY   TORRENCE    _ _  93 

To  RICHARD  R.  WRIGHT _ „ „.._  94 

To  SAMUEL  COLERIDGE  TAYLOR _.  95 

To  EMILIE  BIGELOW  HAPGOOD „ _ _ „ 96 

To  HENRY  LINCOLN   JOHNSON _ 97 

To  MARY  CHURCH  TERRELL _..•_ _  98 

To  MAY  HOWARD  JACKSON. _ _ „._ „  99 

To  THE  MEMORY  OF  INEZ  MULHOLLAND-... _ 100 

To  ATLANTA  UNIVERSITY  _ 101 

10 


Exhortation 


SONNET  TO  THE  MANTLED 


SONNET  TO  THE  MANTLED 

And  they  shall  rise  and  cast  their  mantles  by, 
Erect  and  strong  and  visioned,  in  the  day 
That  rings  the  knell  of  Curfew  o'er  the  sway 
Of  prejudice — who  reels  with  mortal  cry 
To  lift  no  more  her  leprous,  blinded  eye, 
Reft  of  the  fetters,  far  more  cursed  than  they 
Which  held  dominion  o'er  human  clay, 
The  spirit  soars  aloft  where  rainbows  lie. 

Like  joyful  exiles  swift  returning  home — 
The  rhythmic  chanson  of  their  eager  feet, 
While  voices  strange  to  ecstasy,  long  dumb, 
Break  forth  in  major  rhapsodies,  full  sweet. 
Into  the  very  star-shine,  lo!  they  come 
Wearing  the  bays  of  victory  complete! 


BRONZE 


SONNET  TO  THOSE  WHO  SEE  BUT  DARKLY 

Their  gaze  uplifting  from  shoals  of  despair 
Like  phantoms  groping  enswathed  from  the  light 
Up  from  miasmic  depths,  children  of  night, 
Surge  to  the  piping  of  Hope's  dulcet  lay, 
Souled  like  the  lily,  whose  splendors  declare 
God's  mazed  paradox — purged  of  all  blight, 
Out  from  the  quagmire,  unsullied  and  fair. 

Life  holds  her  arms  o'er  the  festering  way, 
Smiles,  as  their  faith-sandalled  rushes  prevail, 
Slowly  the  sun  rides  the  marge  of  the  day, 
Wine  to  the  lips  sorely  anguished  and  pale; 
On,  ever  on,  do  the  serried  ranks  sway 
Charging  the  ultimate,  rending  the  veil. 


16 


BROTHERHOOD 


BROTHERHOOD 

Come,  brothers  all! 

Shall  we  not  wend 

The  blind-way  of  our  prison-world 

By  sympathy  entwined? 

Shall  we  not  make 

The  bleak  way  for  each  other's  sake 

Less  rugged  and  unkind? 

O  let  each  throbbing  heart  repeat 

The  faint  note  of  another's  beat 

To  lift  a  chanson  for  the  feet 

That  stumble  down  life's  checkered  street. 


17 


Supplication 


LET  ME  NOT  LOSE  MY  DREAM 


LET  ME  NOT  LOSE  MY  DREAM 

Let  me  not  lose  my  dream,  e'en  though  I  scan  the  veil 

with  eyes  unseeing  through  their  glaze  of  tears, 
Let  me  not  falter,  though  the  rungs  of  fortune  perish 

as  I  fare  above  the  tumult,  praying  purer  air, 
Let  me  not  lose  the  vision,  gird  me,  Powers  that  toss 

the  worlds,  I  pray! 
Hold   me,   and  guard,  lest  anguish  tear  my   dreams 

away ! 


21 


BRONZE 


LET  ME  NOT  HATE 

Let  me  not  hate,  although  the  bruising  world  decries 

my  peace, 

Gives  me  no  quarter,  hounds  me  while  I  sleep; 
Would  snuff  the  candles  of  my  soul  and  sear  my  inmost 

dreamings. 

Let  me  not  hate,  though  girt  by  vipers,  green  and  hiss- 
ing through  the  dark; 

I  fain  must  love.  God  help  me  keep  the  altar-gleams 
that  flicker  wearily,  anon, 

On  down  the  world's  grim  night! 


22 


CALLING  DREAMS 


CALLING  DREAMS 

The  right  to  make  my  dreams  come  true 
I  ask,  nay,  I  demand  of  life, 
Nor  shall  fate's  deadly  contraband 
Impede  my  steps,  nor  countermand. 

Too  long  my  heart  against  the  ground 
Has  beat  the  dusty  years  around, 
And  now,  at  length,  I  rise,  I  wake! 
And  stride  into  the  morning-break! 


23 


BRONZE 


DESIRE 

Ope!  ye  everlasting  doors,  unto  my  soul's  demand, 
I  would  go  forward,  fare  beyond  these  dusty  boule- 
vards, 

Faint  lights  and  fair  allure  me  all  insistently 
And  I  must  stand  within  the  halls  resplendent,  of  my 
dreams. 


24 


SHADOW 


SORROW  FINGERS 


SORROW  SINGERS 

Hear  their  viol-voices  ringing 
Down  the  corridor  of  years, 

As  they  lift  their  twilight  faces 
Through  a  mist  of  falling  tears ! 


27 


BRONZE 


THE  CROSS 

All  day  the  world's  mad  mocking  strife, 
The  venomed  prick  of  probing  knife, 
The  baleful,  subtle  leer  of  scorn 
That  rims  the  world  from  morn  to  morn, 
While  reptile-visions  writhe  and  creep 
Into  the  very  arms  of  sleep 
To  quench  the  fitful  burnished  gleams: 
A  crucifixion  in  my  dreams! 


28 


PREJUDICE 


PREJUDICE 

These  fell  miasmic  rings  of  mist,  with  ghoulish  menace 

bound, 

Like  noose-horizons  tightening  my  little  world  around, 
They  still  the  soaring  will  to  wing,  to  dance,  to  speed 

away, 
And  fling  the  soul  insurgent  back  into  its  shell  of  clay: 

Beneath  incrusted  silences,  a  seething  Etna  lies, 

The  fire  of  whose  furnaces  may  sleep — but  never  dies! 


29 


BRONZE 


LAOCOON 

This  spirit-choking  atmosphere 

With  deadly  serpent-coil 
Entwines  my  soaring-upwardness 

And  chains  me  to  the  soil, 
Where'er  I  seek  with  eager  stride 

To  gain  yon  gleaming  height, 
These  noisesome  fetters  coil  aloft 

And  snare  my  buoyant  flight. 

O,  why  these  aspirations  bold, 

These  rigours  of  desire, 
That  surge  within  so  ceaselessly 

Like  living  tongues  of  fire? 
And  why  these  glowing  forms  of  hope 

That  scintillate  and  shine, 
If  naught  of  all  that  burnished  dream 

Can  evermore  be  mine? 


30 


LAOCOON 


It  cannot  be,  fate  does  not  mock, 

And  man's  untoward  decree 
Shall  not  forever  thus  confine 

My  life's  entirety, 
My  every  fibre  fierce  rebels 

Against  this  servile  role, 
And  all  my  being  broods  to  break 

This  death-grip  from  my  soul! 


31 


BRONZE 


MOODS 

My  heart  is  pregnant  with  a  great  despair 

With  much  beholding  of  my  people's  care, 

'Mid  blinded  prejudice  and  nurtured  wrong, 

Exhaling  wantonly  the  days  along: 

I  mark  Faith's  fragile  craft  of  cheering  light 

Tossing  imperiled  on  the  sea  of  night, 

And  then,  enanguished,  comes  my  heart's  low  cry, 

"God,  God !    I  crave  to  learn  the  reason  why !" 

Again,  in  spirit  loftily  I  soar 

With  winged  vision  through  earth's  outer  door, 

In  such  an  hour,  it  is  mine  to  see, 

In  frowning  fortune  smiling  destiny ! 


32 


HEGIRA 


HEGIRA 

Oh,  black  man,  why  do  you  northward  roam,  and  leave 

all  the  farm  lands  bare? 
Is  your  house  not  warm,  tightly  thatched  from  storm, 

and  a  larder  replete  your  share? 
And  have  you  not  schools,  fit  with  books  and  tools  the 

steps  of  your  young  to  guide? 
Then  what  do  you  seek,  in  the  north  cold  and  bleak, 

'mid  the  whirl  of  its  teeming  tide? 

I  have  toiled  in  your  cornfields,  and  parched  in  the  sun, 

I  have  bowed  'neath  your  load  of  care, 
I  have  patiently  garnered  your  bright  golden  grain,  in 

season  of  storm  and  fair, 
With  a  smile  I  have  answered  your  glowering  gloom, 

while  my  wounded  heart  quivering  bled, 
Trailing  mute  in  your  wake,  as  your  rosy  dawn  breaks, 

while  I  curtain  the  mound  of  my  dead. 

Though  my  children  are  taught  in  the  schools  you  have 
wrought,  they  are  blind  to  the  sheen  of  the  sky, 


33 


BRONZE 


For  the  brand  of  your  hand,  casts  a  pall  o'er  the  land, 
that  enshadows  the  gleam  of  the  eye, 

My  sons,  deftly  sapped  of  the  brawn-hood  of  man,  self- 
rejected  and  impotent  stand, 

My  daughters,  unhaloed,  unhonored,  undone,  feed  the 
lust  of  a  dominant  land. 

I  would  not  remember,  yet  could  not  forget,  how  the 

hearts  beating  true  to  your  own, 
You've  tortured,  and  wounded,  and  filtered  their  blood 

'till  a  budding  Hegira  has  blown. 

Unstrange  is  the  pathway  to  Calvary's  hill,  which  I 

wend  in  my  dumb  agony, 
Up  its  perilous  height,  in  the  pale  morning  light,  to 

dissever  my  own  from  the  tree. 

And  so  I'm  away,  where  the  sky-line  of  day  sets  the 

arch  of  its  rainbow  afar, 
To  the  land  of  the  north,  where  the  symbol  of  worth 

sets  the  broad  gates  of  combat  ajar! 


34 


THE  PASSING  OF  THE  EX-SLAVE 


THE  PASSING  OF  THE  EX-SLAVE 

Swift  melting  into  yesterday, 
The  tortured  hordes  of  ebon-clay; 
No  more  is  heard  the  plaintive  strain, 
The  rhythmic  chaunting  of  their  pain. 

Their  moundad  bodies  dimly  rise 
To  fill  the  gulf  of  sacrifice, 
And  o'er  their  silent  hearts  below 
The  mantled  millions  softly  go. 

Some  few  remaining  still  abide, 
Gnarled  sentinels  of  time  and  tide, 
Now  mellowed  by  a  chastened  glow 
Which  lighter  hearts  will  never  know. 

Winding  into  the  silent  way, 

Spent  with  the  travail  of  the  day, 

So  royal  in  their  humble  might 

These  uncrowned  Pilgrims  of  the  Night! 


35 


BRONZE 


THE  OCTOROON 

One  drop  of  midnight  in  the  dawn  of  life's  pulsating 

stream 
Marks  her  an  alien  from  her  kind,  a  shade  amid  its 

gleam; 
Forevermore    her    step    she    bends    insular,    strange, 

apart — 
And  none  can  read  the  riddle  of  her  wildly  warring 

heart. 

The  stormy  current  of  her  blood  beats  like  a  mighty  sea 
Against  the  man-wrought  iron  bars  of  her  captivity. 
For   refuge,    succor,   peace   and    rest,   she   seeks   that 

humble  fold 
Whose  every  breath  is  kindliness,  whose  hearts   are 

purest  gold. 


36 


ALIENS 


ALIENS 

(To  You — EVERYWHERE!    DEDICATED) 

They  seem  to  smile  as  others  smile,  the  masquerader's 

art 
Conceals  them,  while,  in  verity,  they're  eating  out  their 

heart, 
Betwixt  the  two  contending  stones  of  crass  humanity 

They  lie,  the  fretted  fabric  of  a  dual  dynasty. 

i 

A  single  drop,  a  sable  strain  debars  them  from  their 

own, — 
The  others — fold  them  furtively,  but  God!  they  are 

alone, 
Blown  by  the  fickle  winds  of  fate  far  from  the  traveled 

mart 
To  die,  when  they  have  quite  consumed  the  morsel  of 

their  heart. 
When  man  shall  lift  his  lowered  eyes  to  meet  the  moon 

of  truth, 


37 


BRONZE 


Shall  break  the  shallow  shell  of  pride  and  wax  in  ways 

of  ruth, 
He  cannot  hate,  for  love  shall  reign  untrammelled  in 

the  soul, 
While  peace  shall  spread  a  rainbow  o'er  the  earth  from 

pole  to  pole. 


CONCORD 

Nor  shall  I  in  sorrow  repine, 

But  offer  a  paean  of  praise 

To  the  infinite  God  of  my  days 

Who  marshals  the  pivoting  spheres 

Through  the  intricate  maze  of  the  years, 

Who  loosens  the  luminous  flood 

That  lightens  the  purlieus  of  men, 

I  shall  not  in  sorrow  repine 

To  break  the  eternal  Amen ! 


38 


Motherhood 


THE  MOTHER 


THE  MOTHER 

The  mother  soothes  her  mantled  child 
With  incantation  sad  and  wild; 
A  deep  compassion  brims  her  eye 
And  stills  upon  her  lips,  the  sigh. 

Her  thoughts  are  leaping  down  the  years, 
O'er  branding  bars,  through  seething  tears, 
Her  heart  is  sandaling  his  feet 
Adown  the  world's  corroding  street. 

Then,  with  a  start  she  dons  a  smile 
His  tender  yearnings  to  beguile, 
And  only  God  will  ever  know 
The  wordless  measure  of  her  woe. 


41 


BRONZE 


MATERNITY 

Proud? 

Perhaps — and  yet 

I  cannot  say  with  surety 

That  I  am  happy  thus  to  be 

Responsible  for  this  young  life's  embarking. 

Is  he  not  thrall  to  prevalent  conditions? 

Does  not  the  day  loom  dark  apace 

To  weave  its  cordon  of  disgrace 

Around  his  lifted  throat? 

Is  not  this  mezzotint  enough  and  surfeit 

For  such  prescience? 

Ah,  did  I  dare 

Recall  the  pulsing  life  I  gave, 

And  fold  him  in  the  kindly  grave ! 

Proud? 

Perhaps — could  I  but  ever  so  faintly  scan 

The  broad  horizon  of  a  man 

Swept  fair  for  his  dominion — 

So  hesitant  and  half-afraid 

I  view  this  babe  of  sorrow! 


42 


BLACK  WOMAN 


BLACK  WOMAN 

Don't  knock  at  my  door,  little  child, 

I  cannot  let  you  in, 
You  know  not  what  a  world  this  is 

Of  cruelty  and  sin. 
Wait  in  the  still  eternity 

Until  I  come  to  you, 
The  world  is  cruel,  cruel,  child, 

I  cannot  let  you  in! 

Don't  knock  at  my  heart,  little  one, 

I  cannot  bear  the  pain 
Of  turning  deaf-ear  to  your  call 

Time  and  time  again ! 
You  do  not  know  the  monster  men 

Inhabiting  the  earth, 
Be  still,  be  still,  my  precious  child, 

I  must  not  give  you  birth ! 


BRONZE 


"ONE  OF  THE  LEAST  OF  THESE, 
MY  LITTLE  ONE" 

The  infant  eyes  look  out  amazed  upon  the  frowning 

earth, 
A  stranger,  in  a  land  now  strange,  child  of  the  mantled- 

birth; 

Waxing,  he  wonders  more  and  more;  the  scowling  grows 

apace; 
A  world,  behind  its  barring  doors,  reviles  his  ebon  face: 

Yet  from  this  maelstrom  issues  forth  a  God-like  entity, 
That  loves  a  world  all  loveless,  and  smiles  on  Calvary! 


44 


SHALL  I  SAY,  "MY  SON,  YOU'RE  BRANDED"? 


SHALL  I  SAY,  "MY  SON,  YOU'RE  BRANDED"? 

Shall  I  say,  "My  son,  you're  branded  in  this  country's 

pageantry, 
By  strange  subtleties  you're  tethered,  and  no  forum 

sets  you  free?" 
Shall  I  mark  the  young  lights  fading  through  your  soul- 

enchannelled  eye, 
As  the  dusky  pall  of  shadows  screen  the  highway  of 

your  sky? 

Or  shall  I,  with  love  prophetic,  bid  you  dauntlessly 

arise, 
Spurn  the  handicap  that  clogs  you,  taking  what  the 

world  denies, 
Bid  you  storm  the  sullen  fortress  wrought  by  prejudice 

and  wrong 
With  a  faith  that  shall  not  falter,  in  your  heart  and  on 

your  tongue ! 


45 


BRONZE 


MY  BOY 

I  hear  you  singing  happily, 
My  boy  of  tarnished  mien, 

Lifting  your  limpid,  trustful  gaze 
In  innocence  serene. 

A  thousand  javelins  of  pain 
Assault  my  heaving  breast 

When  I  behold  the  storm  of  years 
That  beat  without  your  nest. 

O  sing,  my  lark,  your  matin  song 

Of  joyous  rhapsody, 
Distil  the  sweetness  of  the  hours 

In  gladsome  ecstasy. 

For  time  awaits  your  buoyant  flight 

Across  the  bar  of  years, 
Sing,  sing  your  song,  my  bonny  lark, 

Before  it  melts  in  tears! 


46 


GUARDIANSHIP 


GUARDIANSHIP 

That  dusky  child  upon  your  knee 
Is  breath  of  God's  eternity; 
Direct  his  vision  to  the  height — 
Let  naught  obscure  his  royal  right. 

Although  the  highways  to  renown 
Are  iron-barred  by  fortune's  frown, 
'Tis  his  to  forge  the  master-key 
That  wields  the  locks  of  destiny! 


47 


BRONZE 


UTOPIA 

God  grant  you  wider  vision,  clearer  skies,  my  son, 

With  morning's  rosy  kisses  on  your  brow; 

May  your  wild  yearnings  know  repose, 

And  storm-clouds  break  to  smiles 

As  you  sweep  on  with  spreading  wings 

Unto  a  waiting  sunset! 


48 


LITTLE  SON 


LITTLE  SON 

The  very  acme  of  my  woe, 

The  pivot  of  my  pride, 
My  consolation,  and  my  hope 

Deferred,  but  not  denied. 
The  substance  of  my  every  dream, 

The  riddle  of  my  plight, 
The  very  world  epitomized 

In  turmoil  and  delight. 


49 


BRONZE 


BENEDICTION 

Go  forth,  my  son, 

Winged  by  my  heart's  desire! 

Great  reaches,  yet  unknown, 

Await 

For  your  possession. 

I  may  not,  if  I  would, 

Retrace  the  way  with  you, 

My  pilgrimage  is  through, 

But  life  is  calling  you ! 

Fare  high  and  far,  my  son, 

A  new  day  has  begun, 

Thy  star-ways  must  be  won ! 


SO 


Prescience 


CREDO 


CREDO 

I  believe  in  the  ultimate  justice  of  Fate; 

That  the  races  of  men  front  the  sun  in  their  turn; 

That  each  soul  holds  the  title  to  infinite  wealth 

In  fee  to  the  will  as  it  masters  itself; 

That  the  heart  of  humanity  sounds  the  same  tone 

In  impious  jungle,  or  sky-kneeling  fane. 

I  believe  that  the  key  to  the  life-mystery 

Lies  deeper  than  reason  and  further  than  death. 

I  believe  that  the  rhythmical  conscience  within 

Is  guidance  enough  for  the  conduct  of  men. 


BRONZE 


PROMISE 

Through  the  moil  and  the  gloom  they  have  issued 
To  the  steps  of  the  upwinding  hill, 

Where  the  sweet,  dulcet  pipes  of  tomorrow 
In  their  preluding  rhapsodies  trill. 

With  a  thud  comes  a  stir  in  the  bosom, 
As  there  steals  on  the  sight  from  afar, 

Through  a  break  of  a  cloud's  coiling  shadow 
The  gleam  of  a  bright  morning  star! 


54 


THE  SUPPLIANT 


THE  SUPPLIANT 

Long  have  I  beat  with  timid  hands  upon  life's  leaden 

door, 
Praying  the  patient,  futile  prayer  my  fathers  prayed 

before, 

Yet  I  remain  without  the  close,  unheeded  and  unheard, 
And  never  to  my  listening  ear  is  borne  the  waited  word. 

Soft  o'er  the  threshold  of  the  years  there  comes  this 

counsel  cool: 
The  strong  demand,  contend,  prevail;  the  beggar  is  a 

fool! 


55 


BRONZE 


HOPE 

Frail  children  of  sorrow,  dethroned  by  a  hue, 
The  shadows  are  flecked  by  the  rose  sifting  through, 
The  world  has  its  motion,  all  things  pass  away, 
No  night  is  omnipotent,  there  must  be  day. 

The  oak  tarries  long  in  the  depth  of  the  seed, 
But  swift  is  the  season  of  nettle  and  weed, 
Abide  yet  awhile  in  the  mellowing  shade, 
And  rise  with  the  hour  for  which  you  were  made. 

The  cycle  of  seasons,  the  tidals  of  man 
Revolve  in  the  orb  of  an  infinite  plan, 
We  move  to  the  rhythm  of  ages  long  done, 
And  each  has  his  hour — to  dwell  in  the  sun ! 


56 


Exaltation 


COSMOPOLITE 


COSMOPOLITE 

Not  wholly  this  or  that, 

But  wrought 

Of  alien  bloods  am  I, 

A  product  of  the  interplay 

Of  traveled  hearts. 

Estranged,  yet  not  estranged,  I  stand 

All  comprehending; 

From  my  estate 

I  view  earth's  frail  dilemma; 

Scion  of  fused  strength  am  I, 

All  understanding, 

Nor  this  nor  that 

Contains  me. 


59 


BRONZE 


FUSION 

How  deftly  does  the  gardener  blend 

This  rose  and  that 

To  bud  a  new  creation, 

More  gorgeous  and  more  beautiful 

Than  any  parent  portion, 

And  so, 

I  trace  within  my  warring  blood 

The  tributary  sources, 

They  potently  commingle 

And  sweep 

With  new-born  forces! 


60 


PERSPECTIVE 


PERSPECTIVE 

Some  day 

I  shall  be  glad  that  it  was  mine  to  be 

A  dark  fore-runner  of  a  race  burgeoning; 

I  then  shall  know 

The  secret  of  life's  Calvary, 

And  bless  the  thorns 

That  wound  me! 


61 


BRONZE 


WHEN  I  RISE  UP 

When  I  rise  above  the  earth, 

And  look  down  on  the  things  that  fetter  me, 

I  beat  my  wings  upon  the  air, 

Or  tranquil  lie, 

Surge  after  surge  of  potent  strength 

Like  incense  comes  to  me 

When  I  rise  up  above  the  earth 

And  look  down  upon  the  things  that  fetter  me. 


62 


FAITH 


FAITH 

The  faint  lose  faith 

When  in  the  tomb  their  all  is  laid, 

And  there  returns 

No  echoing  of  weal  or  woe. 

The  strong  hope  on, 

They  see  the  clods  close  over  head, 

The  grass  grow  green, 

No  word  is  said, 

And  yet — 

A  little  world  within  the  world 

Are  we, 

Daily  our  hearts'  high  yearnings  fade, 

Are  buried ! 

New  ones  are  made, — 

Are  crucified ! 

And  yet — 


63 


Martial 


WE  FACE  THE  FUTURE 


WE  FACE  THE  FUTURE 

The  hour  is  big  with  sooth  and  sign,  with  errant  men 

at  war, 
While  blood  of  alien,  friend,  and  foe  imbues  the  land 

afar, 
And  we,  with  sable  faces  pent,  move  with  the  vanguard 

line, 
Shod  with  a  faith  that  Springtime  keeps,  and  all  the 

stars  opine. 


67 


BRONZE 


SOLDIER 

Though  I  should  weep  until  the  judgment, 

How  would  it  serve — 

Brave  men  are  fighting,  women  speed  them, 

'Tis  a  day 

Of  crucial  conflict! 

My  son,  sometimes  it  seems  Fd  rather  hold 

You  safe  beneath  my  heart 

Than  send  you  forth ! 

But  lo!    The  sun  is  red  and  weaker  children  go! 

Though  I  should  weep  until  the  judgment, 

How  would  it  serve ! 

I'll  close  my  eyes  and  smile,  0  Son  of  Mine, 

Your  cause  is  kingly! 

Step  proud  and  confident,  worthy  your  mother; 

Be  firm  and  brave,  O  Son  of  Mine,  be  strong, 

For  terror  waxeth, 

Speed  swift  away, 

Though  I  should  weep  until  the  judgment  .  .  . 


68 


HOMING  BRAVES 


HOMING  BRAVES 

There's  music  in  the  measured  tread 
Of  those  returning  from  the  dead 
Like  scattered  flowers  from  a  plain 
So  lately  crimson,  with  the  slain. 

No  more  the  sound  of  shuffled  feet 
Shall  mark  the  poltroon  on  the  street, 
Nor  shifting,  sodden,  downcast  eye 
Reveal  the  man  afraid  to  die. 

They  shall  have  paid  full,  utterly 
The  price  of  peace  across  the  sea, 
When,  with  uplifted  glance,  they  come 
To  claim  a  kindly  welcome  home. 

Nor  shall  the  old-time  daedal  sting 

Of  prejudice,  their  manhood  wing, 

Nor  heights,  nor  depths,  nor  living  streams 

Stand  in  the  pathway  of  their  dreams ! 


69 


BRONZE 


TAPS 


They  are  embosomed  in  the  sod, 

In  still  and  tranquil  leisure, 
Their  lives  they've  cast  like  trifles  down, 

To  serve  their  country's  pleasure. 

Nor  bugle  call,  nor  mother's  voice, 

Nor  moody  mob's  unreason, 
Shall  break  their  solace  and  repose 

Through  swiftly  changing  season. 

O  graves  of  men  who  lived  and  died 
Afar  from  life's  high  pleasures, 

Fold  them  in  tenderly  and  warm 
With  manifold  fond  measures. 


70 


PEACE 


PEACE 

Peace  on  a  thousand  hills  and  dales, 
Peace  in  the  hearts  of  men 

While  kindliness  reclaims  the  soil 
Where  bitterness  has  been. 

The  night  of  strife  is  drifting  past, 
The  storm  of  shell  has  ceased, 

Disrupted  is  the  cordon  fell, 
Sweet  charity  released. 

Forth  from  the  shadow,  swift  we  come 
Wrought  in  the  flame  -together, 

All  men  as  one  beneath  the  sun 
In  brotherhood  forever. 


71 


Random 


QUESTION 


QUESTION 

Where  are  the  brave  men,  where  are  the  strong  men? 

Pygmies  rise 

And  spawn  the  earth. 

Weak-kneed,  weak-hearted,  and  afraid, 

Afraid  to  face  the  counsel  of  their  timid  hearts, 

Afraid  to  look  men  squarely, 

Down  they  gaze — 

With  fatal  fascination 

Down,  down — 

Into  the  whirling  maggot  sands 

Of  prejudice. 


75 


BRONZE 


THE  INITIATE 

The  woes  of  flesh  are  naught 

To  one  who  knows 

The  agony  of  soul! 

'Twere  but  the  thud  of  wind  and  rain 

Upon  the  roof. 

The  woes  of  flesh  are  naught 

To  one  who  knows! 


76 


BONDAGE 


BONDAGE 

Many  cages  round  me, 

Bar  on  bar 

Stand  grim,  forbidding! 

Ghostly  pressures 

Clutch  my  heart. 

I  gaze  with  eyes  unseeing — 

Whereunto  may  I  wander  free? 

Alas,  alas! 

My  garden  walks  lie  inwardly! 


77 


BRONZE 


RESOLUTION 

With  but  one  life  full  certified, 

And  that  of  every  gleam  denied 

My  portion, 

Close  to  the  unrelenting  sod, 

E'en  as  my  fathers  dumbly  trod, 

I've  slumbered; 

But  now  a  surging,  wild  unrest 

Uproots  the  poppies  from  my  breast, 

My  soul  awake,  erect!  anew! 

I  stand  and  face  the  star-swept  blue, 

And  swear  to  make  my  dreams  come  true! 


78 


ECLIPSE 


ECLIPSE 

Aflounder  the  uncompassed  darkness  of  doubt 

In  search  of  the  path  to  the  goal 
That  lies  at  the  end  of  our  transient  day, 

The  ultimate  bourne  of  the  soul; 
I  grasp  into  nothingness,  feebly  essay 

To  clasp  but  a  willow,  a  stone, 
And  grope  through  the  stepless,  unechoing  gloom 

Unanswered,  unsuccored,  'alone! 


79 


BRONZE 


WHY 

The  verdure  sleeps  in  winter, 

Awakes  with  April  rain, 
The  sun  swings  low — 'tis  night — ascends, 

And  lo!  'tis  morn  again: 
The  world  spins  on  triumphant 

Across  a  trackless  sky, 
And  man  seeks  evermore  in  vain 

The  primal  reason  why. 

0  whither  are  we  rushing? 

And  wherefrom  were  we  torn? 
We  breathe  from  out  the  silences, 

And  breathless,  back  are  borne. 

Deep  in  the  soul  are  voices 

Returning  this  reply: 
It  took  a  God  to  make  us, 

Only  God  can  answer  why ! 


80 


HUSKS 


HUSKS 

Forever  and  forevermore, 

Across  the  heights,  the  deeps, 
Spurred  by  an  ever-flaming  zeal 

That  slumbers  not,  nor  sleeps — 
We  chase  the  furtive  form  of  fame 

Beyond  the  edge  of  dusk, 
To  bear  within  our  arms  at  length, 

An  empty  mocking,  husk! 


81 


BRONZE 


THE  WATCHER 

The  long,  grim  years  with  iron  tread 
Move  down  the  shuttered  isle 

Of  time's  unrecking  labyrinth 
Paved  with  forgotten  dead. 

And  I,  a  feather  in  their  wake, 
Gaze  long  and  tremblingly 

Into  these  sunless  corridors, 
Praying  the  light  to  break! 


82 


THE  VANISHED  ROAD 


THE  VANISHED  ROAD 

We're  wending  the  trail  of  the  vanishing  road, 
With  a  song  and  a  shout,  just  to  lighten  the  load, 
That  lies  in  the  heart,  filled  with  queries  and  cares, 
For  never  a  traveler  knows  where  he  fares. 

But  on  with  a  jest,  and  rollicksome  cheer, 
With  laughter  that  leaps,  as  a  veil,  for  the  tear; 
The  world's  weary  caravan  finds  that  abode 
That  lies  at  the  end  of  the  vanishing  road. 


83 


Appreciations 


SERVICE 


SERVICE 

When  we  count  out  our  gold  at  the  end  of  the  day, 
And  have  filtered  the  dross  that  has  cumbered  the  way, 
Oh,  what  were  the  hold  of  our  treasury  then 
Save  the  love  we  have  shown  to  the  children  of  men? 


87 


BRONZE 


TO  THE  MARTYRED 

O  sacrificial  throng  whose  lives 
Build  up  the  yawning  deeps 

O'er  which  we  pass  reflectively 
To  broader  lights  and  sweeps. 

Know,  that  we  hold  with  reverence 
The  signal  price  you  paid, 

And  all  our  trophies,  one  by  one, 
Upon  your  bier  are  laid. 


TO  JOHN  BROWN 


TO  JOHN  BROWN 

We  lift  a  song  to  you  across  the  day 

Which  bears  through  travailing  the  seed  you  spread 

In  terror's  morning,  flung  with  fingers  red 

In  blood  of  tyrants,  who  debarred  the  way 

To  Freedom's  dawning.    Hearken  to  the  lay 

Chanted  by  dusky  millions,  soft  and  mellow-keyed, 

In  minor  measure,  Martyr  of  the  Freed, 

A  song  of  memory  across  the  day. 

Truth  cannot  perish  though  the  earth  erase 
The  royal  signals,  leaving  not  a  trace, 
And  time  still  burgeoneth  the  fertile  seed, 
Though  he  is  crucified  who  wrought  the  deed: 
O  Alleghanies,  fold  him  to  your  breast 
Until  the  judgment!     Sentinel  his  rest! 


89 


BRONZE 


TO  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

Within  the  temple  of  our  heart 
Your  sacred  memory  dwells  apart, 
Where  ceaselessly  a  censor  swings 
Alight  with  fragrant  offerings; 
Nor  time,  nor  tide,  nor  circumstance 
Can  dim  this  grand  remembrance, 
And  all  the  blood  of  Afric  hue 
Beats  in  one  mighty  tide — for  you ! 


90 


TO  WILLIAM  STANLEY  BRAITHWAITE. 


TO  WILLIAM  STANLEY  BRAITHWAITE 

When  time  has  rocked  the  present  age  to  sleep, 
And  lighter  hearts  are  lilting  to  the  sway 
Of  rhythmic  poesy's  enhanced  lay, 
Recurring  sequences  shall  fitly  keep 
Your  fame  eternal,  as  they  lightly  sweep 
Aside  the  curtain  to  that  potent  day 
When  you  in  primal  fervor,  led  the  way 
Unto  Apollo's  narrow  winding  steep. 

None  shall  forget  your  travail,  utter,  sore, 
That  oped  the  golden  avenue  of  song, 
When,  like  a  knight,  so  errantly  you  bore 
The  mantled  children  valiantly  along, 
Their  homage  as  a  rising  incense  sweet 
Shall  permeate  the  heavens  at  your  feet! 


91 


BRONZE 


TO  W.  E.  B.  DuBOIS— SCHOLAR 

Grandly  isolate  as  the  god  of  day — 
Blazing  an  orbit  through  the  dank  and  gloom 
Of  misty  morning,  far  and  fair  you  loom, 
Flooding  the  dimness  with  your  golden  ray, — 
Cheering  the  mantled  on  the  thorn-set  way, 
Teaching  of  Faith  and  Hope  o'er  the  tomb, 
Where  both,  though  buried,  spring  to  newer  bloom- 
Strengthened  and  sweet  from  the  mound  of  decay. 

Soft!  strains  of  Sanctus  we  lift  on  the  air, 
Ere  Nunc  Dimittus  at  last  shall  be  sung, 
Sing  we  our  Sanctus  to  fitly  declare 
Blessings  that  well  up  from  hearts  sorely  wrung. 

Lead,  lead  us  on  o'er  the  furthermost  stair — 
Light  of  our  impotence!    Joy  of  our  tongue! 


92 


TO  RIDGE LY  TORRENCE -—PLAYWRIGHT 


TO  RIDGELY  TORRENCE— PLAYWRIGHT 

All  hail !    fair  vistas  break  upon  the  view, 

The  gates  swing  wide  and  free  with  clanging  sound, 

Rejoice!    a  mighty  champion  is  found, 

Son  of  the  morning,  prescient  and  true. 

Upon  the  threshold  of  a  cycle  new 

He  stands,  and  sentinels  its  virgin  ground, 

Seer  in  his  poet-visioning  profound, 

Presaging  vaster  reaches — skies  more  blue. 

Lifting  their  misty  glances  to  the  day, 
The  prismic  children  pass  the  erstwhile  bars, 
Exultant,  swiftly,  boundingly  they  stray, 
Awhile  forgetful  of  deep,  hidden  scars 
Thus,  as  a  golden  legend  time  shall  tell 
Of  him  who  wrought  so  mightily  and  well ! 


93 


BRONZE 


TO  RICHARD  R.  WRIGHT— INSTRUCTOR 

Son  of  a  race,  whose  dusky  visage  shows 

The  heel  of  fortune,  those  who  walk  unfree 

Though  cradled  in  the  hold  of  liberty, 

Whose  shackled  spirit  every  gamut  knows 

Of  Hate's  cadenza,  through  whose  warm  blood  flows 

The  royal  ransom  of  love's  dynasty, 

Scion  of  these,  he  strides  to  meet  his  foes. 

Erect,  unbending,  note  his  sable  brow, 

The  rugged  furrows  where  deep  feelings  plough, 

The  step  of  vigor  and  the  noble  air, 

The  subtle  halo  of  his  wintry  hair, 

Up  from  the  furnace  of  the  Earth's  red  sea 

A  man  is  fashioned  for  the  years  to  be! 


94 


TO  SAMUEL  COLERIDGE  TAYLOR 


TO  SAMUEL  COLERIDGE  TAYLOR,  UPON 
HEARING  HIS 


i 


& 

Strange  to  a  sensing  motherhood, 
Loved  as  a  toy — not  understood, 
Child  of  a  dusky  father,  bold; 
Frail  little  captive,  exiled,  cold. 

Oft  when  the  brooding  planets  sleep, 
You  through  their  drowsy  empires  creep, 
Flinging  your  arms  through  their  empty  space, 
Seeking  the  breast  of  an  unknown  face. 


95 


BRONZE 


TO  EMILIE  BIGELOW  HAPGOOD  — 
PHILANTHROPIST 

Far  from  the  seried  ranks  you  sway, 

Firm  in  your  own  believing 
In  that  frail  brotherhood,  who  stray 

Sore  anguishing,  sore  grieving. 
Such  hands  as  yours,  adown  the  years 

Enchain  a  faith  unbroken, 
They  stay  the  dreary  waste  of  tears, 

And  lift  to  Hope  a  token ! 


96 


TO  HENRY  LINCOLN  JOHNSON —  LAWYER 


TO  HENRY  LINCOLN  JOHNSON  —  LAWYER 

Quite  firmly  did  you  stand,  and  unafraid 
Before  that  haughty  bar  that  sought  to  hold 
You  fettered,  lest  you  strengthen  and  grow  bold 
To  break  a  clearing  through  that  fetid  glade 
Which  their  benighted  prejudice  -had  made; 
They  taunted  you  with  darkling  hints  of  gold, 
Preferring  you  were  bought  as  you  had  sold, 
They  weaved  their  webs  like  spiders  in  the  shade. 

But  as  a  giant  in  the  falling  night 

Of  storm,  you  forged  afore  with  ruthless  tread, 

To  offer  up  your  heart's  blood  in  the  fight, 

Forgetting  self,  unmindful,  unafraid, 

Nor  pausing  until  thrice  acclaimed  the  right 

To  rally  in  the  tents  of  those  you  led. 


97 


BRONZE 


TO  MARY  CHURCH  TERRELL  —  LECTURER 

A  pioneer,  she  blazed  a  trail  of  light 
Through  murky  shadows,  with  a  lithesome  tread 
Unto  those  forums,  where  Hope's  beams  are  shed: 
Straight  through  the  mighty  cordon  of  the  night, 
Rapt  with  a  vision,  soul-born,  clear  and  bright, 
Leaving  the  South  of  frigid  wrong,  she  sped 
Into  the  North,  where  hearts  glow  warm  instead, 
A  people's  tragedy  to  there  recite. 

Hope's  liquid  pipings  lift  their  tender  lay, 
Morning  is  waking,  flushed  with  rosy  gleam, 
Night  with  its  shadow  winds  with  yesterday 
Adown  the  world-way  as  an  inky  stream, 
Seed  time  and  harvest  deftly  interplay, 
And  Life's  fruition  is  its  vital  dream! 


98 


TO  MAY  HOWARD  JACKSON —  SCULPTOR 


TO  MAY  HOWARD  JACKSON  —  SCULPTOR 

You  saw  the  vision  in  the  face  of  clay, 
And  fixed  it  through  the  magic  of  a  hand 
Obedient  unto  the  will's  command, 
In  forms  impervious  to  Time's  decay: 
Historian  of  bloods  that  interplay 
Confusedly  within  a  cryptic  land, 
You've  chiseled,  and  your  work  of  art  shall  stand 
To  gem  the  archives  of  a  better  day. 

Alone,  far  from  the  touch  of  kindred  mind, 
You've  mounted  with  a  grim,  determined  zeal, 
Despite  environment  austere,  unkind, 
Or  frozen-fingers  clenched  to  your  appeal, 
You've  held  the  ardor  of  your  first  ideal, 
Robed  in  a  queenly  majesty,  resigned. 


99 


BRONZE 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  INEZ  MILHOLLAND 

Folded  in  silent  veils  of  sleep, 

You  calmly  rest, 
For  God  hath  spoken,  should  we  weep? 

He  knoweth  best. 

But  rather  let  us  garner  still 

While  yet  we  may, 
And  meet  you  in  His  Holy  Hill 

On  that  Great  Day ! 


100 


TO  ATLANTA  UNIVERSITY 


TO  ATLANTA  UNIVERSITY  —  ITS  FOUNDERS 
AND  TEACHERS 

Pass  down  the  aisle  of  buried  years  to-night, 
And  stand  uncovered  in  that  holy  place 
Where  noble  structures  lift  their  hallowed  height 
Beneath  a  bending  Heaven's  chaste  embrace, 
The  fruit  of  those  who  scorned  the  path  of  ease, 
To  buckle  on  the  armaments  of  care 
Like  to  the  Son  of  Man  Himself,  were  these 
Who  gave  themselves  for  brother  men  —  less  fair. 

Before  the  blinding  footlights  of  to-day 
We  man  our  parts  within  Life's  tragic  play, 
Full  mindful  of  the  earnest  love  and  care 
That  keeps  eternal  watch  and  vigil  there; 
Nor  do  they  need  fair  monuments  and  scrolls  — 
Their  memories  are  deathless  in  our  souls. 


101 


